


Not There!

by MariaSpade



Series: PruAus Drabbles [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adultery, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaSpade/pseuds/MariaSpade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roderich thinks back on the first time he and Gilbert were together, the first page in their book and what made them who they were. (Part of a series but does not have to be read that way.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not There!

Sometimes Roderich liked to think. And not about what everyone liked to think was inside his head- he knew plenty well what they thought. That his head was full of things like cake and pianos and violins and sheet music and sometimes things like taxes and patching up clothing. But he thought about a lot of other things.

He liked to reminisce. He did like to think about times past. Sometimes not so much. The things that hurt to think about, he avoided those a lot. Being tossed around like a doll from marriage to marriage, he did not think on that. He did, however, sometimes think about his time during those marriages. When he was happy, sometimes. Sometimes he was happy in those marriages, like when Elizabeta was baking bread, when Antonio would make dinner and he had such a joyous look on his face that Roderich couldn’t help but smile as well. Not that he held anything but platonic love for Antonio or anyone else he was married to. No, he could never love anyone who was forced upon him.  
But it turned out, as he realized, that when he thought about things that made him happy, a lot of the time those thoughts consisted of a man with crimson red eyes and skin so pale he could see scars still from years upon years ago. His muse, his madness, his everything. Gilbert. He thought about Gilbert and that made him happy. Even thinking about times he was sad with Gilbert made him happy now.  
But there was one thing, one thing that never failed to curl his lips into a smile. Sometimes his smile was simple and sweet. Sometimes when he thought hard enough on it, on that one thing, oh it embarrassed him so much but if he thought enough about that one thing, his smile became wide and lopsided and so goofy it embarrassed him. It crept up on him when he was doing things like tending to the garden or going to the grocery store. The thoughts would start and he would start thinking of that one thing and it never failed to make him smile and sometimes it just got out of hand.  
He could remember that one thing like it was yesterday. Well, this was actually probably because yesterday was actually the day Gilbert had been so rough with him his backside still jolted every now and again as he went about his day with aching pains. But even so, even without those pains, it seemed like yesterday was the first time he and Gilbert had made love.  
He wanted to insist to everyone that it was glorious. And by everyone he meant no one at all. No one was to know about the first time he and Gilbert made love because that was between him and Gilbert and no one else. To think some people spoke so openly about the subject still shocked him. He supposed he was old fashioned about such values, though.  
It was years upon years upon years ago, really, centuries ago. Times when marriage was still just another crank in the political wheel. It was Antonio, he remembered. It was Antonio who had his hand in marriage that year. Yes, the height of his empire and the begin of his descent.  
What could he say? Gilbert always drove him mad. There was no doubt to that. But what can one say about how oddly love worked? The way it crept up, the same way Gilbert still to this day liked to creep up behind Roderich and surprise him. And quite suddenly in just the same way Roderich found himself in some sort of infatuation. That’s what he had called it at the time because he was not entirely sure what romantic love felt like. He was used to the love he felt for Antonio and Elizabeta and all their friends and counterparts. A sort of protective love, sometimes. But nothing like this, love had never made him nervous before.  
It was wonderful, really, the way it happened. Everything that lead up to it, and this was what made him smile sometimes. Thinking more about what led up to it versus when it happened. It was stress, nothing but stress, for such the longest time. Anger towards each other. Frustration. Screaming, too, and mocking. And then. And then, so perfectly, like they knew it was going to happen and they knew when and they knew how, suddenly they were kissing.  
They were kissing and it was so wonderful. It was so wonderful and he was never going to let it stop. He remembered thinking this, too, he remembered thinking he was never going to let Gilbert stop kissing him and he supposed he never actually did. It was messy, because it was dark, really. Kissing was really something to do with the lights on, wasn’t it? So he could see where his mouth was and where Gilbert’s mouth was and there wouldn’t have been so much mismatched lip locking if there had been more light.  
In the dark, though, it was easy to let his hands start to wander. And they wandered, oh how they wandered. Their lips easily melted and molded and formed together, wet noises slipping out between them in the darkness. Gilbert’s hands were already touching, they had been quick to jump to that, and his shirt was untucked and his cravat hung loose and the top buttons of his jacket were undone as well. And those wicked hands. They were up his shirt, on his hips, reaching, stroking, squeezing. Roderich wasn’t used to such intimacy. He had his duties he’d had to fulfill with Antonio, of course, and Francis before him. He knew what was expected of him and he let his husbands satisfy themselves, he wasn’t new to the subject of sex. But he was new to the subject of making love and that scared him. But the way Gilbert was grabbing him, how he kissed, those hands in his hair, and soon he was letting his own body do whatever it pleased. His fingers gripped at Gilbert’s collar, dragging the kiss hard onto their lips, harder than it had been. He was hungry for these kisses, for the love they held.  
Next his fingers moved down, and they gripped at the fabric of Gilbert’s shirt and they pulled up and his shirt was untucked and that was when Roderich really knew it, he really knew that this was going to end the way it ended. That he was going to take this man to bed and there was not a person on this planet who could say a thing that would put it in his mind to stop.  
The clothes were off fairly quickly after that. They pooled to the floor, piled on top of each other, and Roderich thought all these layers were no good for someone in a rush for sex. They were in the Habsburg castle as well, tucked away inside Roderich’s bed chamber.  
That was important to Roderich, an important detail. The Habsburg castle. His marriage to Antonio, the betrayal he was committing right now, the sin he was about to commit. Adultery. Everyone pretended to frown upon it but even naive, sweet Roderich knew marriage and faithfulness did not go hand in hand in this castle like it should have, and that lessened the guilt for him.  
Even more so that erased the guilt on his mind was Gilbert’s tongue on his body. Oh he was much too good at the whole thing. At his chest Gilbert was littering kisses. He was good at this but there seemed to be no rhyme or reason behind where he kissed or when.  
He had not changed a bit.  
The kisses came fast and feverish. They were heavy and thick or sweet and light but always had that taste, that taste of Gilbert he had now come to know and adore. But then, tasting it for the first time, it was so different from what he was used to. He liked sweet things, he liked his tea with no less than two teaspoons of sugar in it, and his cake, his wonderful cake, he could eat by the oven-ful. Bu Gilbert’s taste, the taste upon his lips and his teeth and his tongue that was so forceful in his mouth, it was bitter. Bitter like war and blood and bitter like unsweetened chocolate and memories and the guilt that came with committing a sin of the flesh. That was what Gilbert tasted like to him. Guilt. Sin. And chocolate.  
The only oil he had was rose oil that he kept by his bedside simply to sooth him. Gilbert insisted this would be good enough. Roderich, of course, as he was known to, had to argue, why couldn’t Gilbert get up and get the oil in the bathroom which was much thicker and more suited for such an act. And Gilbert bickered back he wasn’t going to the bathroom to get oil when they had oil right here. Roderich quieted down when Gilbert said if he wanted the other oil so badly he could get it himself. He did not want to get it himself.  
This was yet another way how Gilbert was so so different from everyone else. Everyone else wanted to pamper and spoil him. If he had said to anyone else to get the oil they would have been on their feet in moments to get the oil. But Gilbert, oh his Gilbert, had to argue with him, had to startle him with refusing him of what he asked. And so he settled with the rose oil beside his bed.  
Gilbert’s fingers were sticky and rough and calloused. He warmed the oil between his fingers, but quickly, impatiently, and his hands ended up slipping a few times.  
“Spread your legs,” he insisted to Roderich, clambering over him.  
Roderich followed directions quickly, settling back against a pillow and opening his legs for Gilbert.  
The way the albino man faltered, Roderich would swear he was a virgin. As good as he was with his tongue and his teeth and oh his fingers, he looked so nervous and even startled that Roderich would swear he had never seen another man’s genitals before. But he had little time to think on this because quickly Gilbert had gotten over whatever it was that had taken over him and had his fingers pressed against Roderich’s entrance.  
(Later Roderich would find out he wasn’t Gilbert’s first, very nearly, though. Gilbert did not like to speak of it and insisted it was a drunken mistake but his first had been Ivan.)  
He was rough, but Roderich came to realize this wasn’t because he wasn’t used to sex with a man, but he was just rough, it was just who he was. He hardly bothered with just one finger before he pressed two inside Roderich, and the Austrian’s violet eyes swelled with tears and being pushed open so quickly and he had to slow Gilbert down and coax him through stretching him.  
(And even later still Roderich found out he had actually been the first man Gilbert had ever taken- Ivan had taken him- and that he seemed out of practice because, well, he had had no practice.)  
The stretching turned out to be the easy part. Well, not easy, but easier than what came.  
“Open your legs a bit more,” Gilbert insisted, fitting himself snugly between the other man’s thighs.  
“I can’t,” Roderich hissed quietly. Something about the darkness of the room and the fact that he was committing adultery made it seem like they were required to use whispering voices. “Ow- Gilbert- stop- they won’t open any more and that hurts,” he hissed softly. “Be careful, I bruise very easily. Don’t stretch me like that! I have horseback riding in the morning! No, don’t do that either, I have archery in the afternoon and- oh.” His head tilted back and every complaint stopped short on his lips when Gilbert pressed his head in. Oh. Goodness. This wasn’t- wow. This wasn’t like how it was with Antonio, where everything was fast and hard and rough and for the sole purpose of bodily needs. Antonio would be fast right now, he would have slid in and kept going and going fast until he met his own end and lazily finished Roderich off with his hand.  
No, this was different. Gilbert slid in so slowly- he was so careful about it. And in time Roderich had grown annoyed at that, how everyone seemed to treat him like a breakable porcelain doll, but Gilbert, well, Roderich could sense it, h could just feel that Gilbert was doing it as much for himself as he was doing it for Roderich and, well, he would let it slide this time because Gilbert was nervous.  
(He ended up letting it slide many many times after that and learning not to hate it so much)  
Gilbert fit snugly inside when he was erect and oiled up. Roderich sighed, looking up at him. He was flushed. That pale albino skin was red with flush and he was taking steadying breaths. Roderich thought he felt good inside, stretching him just right, filling him up in the nicest, warmest way, really. He didn’t mind the wait as Gilbert got used to this feeling, the feeling of being inside another man. He didn’t mind waiting.  
He coaxed him softly. “Gilbert, my love.” It was the first time he had used the pet name for someone else. No one else deserved it, not the way Gilbert did. “Gilbert, love, move.”  
“Move?” he croaked softly, and this seemed to jolt him out of his state of… state of confusion, perhaps, maybe bliss, Roderich had never quite figured it out, not to this day.  
“Move,” he insisted softly, and he reached up and placed a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder and pulled him down so their lips fitted together and the sweetest kiss Roderich had ever tasted was upon his lips.  
Gilbert began to move. He started slow and gentle, getting used to the rocking motion, how much force he had to put behind his movements to pull out of Roderich, and how far to pull out without pulling all the way out, and how to move without moving their bodies over towards the edge of the big bed, how to do this and how to do that and how to make love versus how to have sex.  
Roderich had to coax Gilbert into touching him, because he found it very hard to come without being touched and with penetration alone. And now the pace was faster, it was more certain, and Gilbert was beginning to lose himself, he was starting to allow his body more control than his head. And with coaxing Roderich was as well, there more heart and body in it versus mind, and soon their movements were faster, but not fast the way Antonio’s were when Roderich and his husband laid together. They weren’t desperate movements. They were simply fast. Today their bodies felt like being fast and who knew, in the future their bodies might feel like going slow, or both in one night, or who knows.  
(Roderich had grown to be more of a fan of when they moved slowly, but their bodies ended up figuring out what they wanted for the night. In time they had grown to love both fast and slow with each other equally.)  
But it was fast that night. Hips slapped together and the noise made Roderich’s cheeks go red. His entire body felt warm, really, and Gilbert’s wonderful kisses were buried into his neck, warm and wet and intimate in ways Roderich had never known before. Once, when he was still married to Francis, he had tried to convince himself that what they had, what he and Francis had, was intimate. That they were happy, that he was in love. That hadn’t lasted very long at all.  
His back arched, his fingers dug into Gilbert’s back and hair, oh he put his fingers through Gilbert’s hair and he pulled and it felt so good. It felt so good he pulled his hair until Gilbert came in for a kiss which had so much force behind it Roderich felt dizzy.  
The warmth was pooling in his belly, it tightened around him, and it burdened him every time Gilbert pulled out because it felt so good to have him inside. But the in and out, in and out, really more so than even the touching, was what brought him to his end. His sticky, warm, delicious end that hit him so wonderfully and slowly he thought it would never end and he was very, very content with that thought. Gilbert had the nerve to make a disgruntled noise when Roderich came, white, warm cum splattering onto his stomach. Roderich’s orgasm warmed his body right to his toes and they curled happily, and his voice cried out low and sweet and filled with nothing but Gilbert’s name. His head tilted back into his pillows and his legs tightened around Gilbert’s sides. Gilbert’s rough, calloused hand gripped at his length, tugging at him, spilling every drop he had to spill (and still whining about it!)  
He was satisfied and he was content and Gilbert was over him for his own end that must be nearing because his hips moved so quickly, he looked so focused that Roderich had to let loose a little laugh, just pressure he had to get rid of, pure happiness and satisfaction and love, above all else love.  
“What- hah, ahh…- What are you laughing at?” he questioned, blowing a piece of hair from his face.  
“You, my love,” Roderich admitted with that smile, that smile that Gilbert would soon grow to love in the coming years, the one he could pick out of a crowd. Roderich tugged Gilbert’s shoulders down for another kiss and insisted on tongue and teeth and lips moving so warmly over each other. It took another moment longer but soon enough Gilbert was at his end as well and he was filling Roderich with a sticky warmth that he felt ooze down his backside and surely onto his bed. He made a mental note to complain of that later.  
Gilbert’s hips slowed as Roderich felt the last shakings of his orgasm slip away. With a content noise he slowed to a stop and Roderich worked his fingers into that silvery white hair, smiling softly up at him. Romance was nice. Being in love was nice. Making love was nice. He could get used to this.  
Gilbert looked down to him once more and couldn’t seem to help the little smile that slipped onto his lips.  
“You, my minx, are wonderful,” he said quietly.  
“You, my knight, are very, very good at this,” he teased softly. Gilbert laughed and he took another kiss, then another, and another, because he could.  
And Roderich knew within a few hours they would have to part. Gilbert would have to go back out to see or off to a battle of some sort and Roderich would have to pretend he was chaste at the breakfast table the next day next to his husband. He would have to clean up their mess so the maids were unaware, they would have to part before they were ready and share all the kisses they could before then.  
But for now, for that moment right then when Gilbert was laughing softly and pulling the sheets over them and Roderich couldn’t help but smile and laugh as well and grant the first of many kisses, well, it was hard to think of parting, so Roderich didn’t bother himself with the thoughts at all.


End file.
